


Great Mistake

by yuletide_archivist



Category: Andromeda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-12-21
Updated: 2003-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-25 01:40:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1624763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harper does something very, very stupid. Dylan and Rommie have to fix it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Great Mistake

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Jena Bartley

 

 

Andromeda's face appeared on his console at the very same moment he heard someone yelling, "Harper!". This, Dylan considered, could not be a good sign. 

He walked briskly in the direction of the scream. Tyr was holding Harper up by the throat, pinning him quite effectively to the wall. Beka was standing at their side and smirking. 

Harper glanced at Beka with the most pathetic expression Dylan had, to date, seen on his face. Which was saying something. The engineer half-gasped, "Help?" 

With a smile that was all teeth, Beka said, "Disembowel him for me, will you, Tyr?" 

"With pleasure." 

"Not while we still need an engineer on the ship." Dylan tapped Tyr's shoulder. "Let him down." 

The moment Harper regained control over his vocal chords, he said, "I swear, it was an accident!" 

That sentence was _much_ too familiar. Dylan mentally braced himself. "Explain, please." 

"Um. Maybe it would be better to ask Rommie. She knows all about it-- Ow, ow, ow. Let go, Beka?" Harper had attempted evaporation. He was stopped by the firm grasp Beka suddenly had on his ear. 

"Not _quite_ yet." She gave the offending ear a tug. "I'm sure you're going to tell your Captains how you managed to screw up yet again. If you're honest, I may not remove your balls and hang them on my wall as a trophy." 

Tyr gave Harper an assessing look. "Hardly an impressive trophy," he murmured. 

"Ha fucking ha. Is anyone going to actually listen to me, or is today Harass the Harper Day?" 

Seeing Beka had opened her mouth to answer, Dylan quickly said, "I would like some answers. _Now_." 

Harper fidgeted. "So. You know about this ancient Earth custom called April's Fool?" 

Tyr narrowed his eyes. "Enlighten us."   
 

* * *

  


"Let me make sure I understand this," Dylan said slowly. "You rewrote Andromeda's circuits to overload unless she--" 

"Does the beast of two backs?" 

"--has intercourse," Dylan said firmly, "with one of our members. You thought this will lead to... What, exactly?" 

Harper mumbled something. 

"What was that?" 

Tyr said, "'Hilarity ensues', sir." The Nietzschean's face was blank. 

Dylan sighed. "I _see_." 

Harper fidgeted. "Uh. Not quite yet." 

One of Tyr's eyebrows rose. Beka pursed her lips. She shoved Harper, none too gently. "Go on." 

"Thing is, it was supposed to be just a little bit of harmless fun, see? I make Rommie propose someone," Harper said, then muttered something Dylan couldn't quite catch about security cameras, "I fix her, everyone's happy. The end." 

"I take it this it didn't go as you expected." 

"Well. I didn't really expect Rommie to panic. Which she did." 

"I do not panic," Rommie said, in her hologram form. "It was a standard emergency routine." 

"Whatever it was, her circuits are sealed now, and I can't get in and fix them. So now she either has sex with someone or the ship goes boom." 

Dylan pinched the bridge of his nose. "Any volunteers?" 

Harper raised a hand. "I--" he caught the looks everyone, most of all Rommie, were giving him. "--am most certainly not volunteering." 

Beka shrugged. "Haven't got the right equipment." Her expression turned thoughtful. "Yet. Harper, if you could rig something out for me--" 

"Wouldn't work, Boss." Harper shrugged apologetically. "She needs to feel the guy, uh, finish, or it wouldn't do much good. Unless," and his face wore an expression frighteningly like Beka's, "I could probably figure out a mechanism--" 

"I would rather not, if it's all the same to you," Rommie cut in. 

"Sexist," Beka muttered. 

Tyr surveyed Rommie's insubstantial form. "As much as I would like to have a warship carrying my child," he said, "the impossibility of fertilization makes this prospect rather undesirable." 

"Some people just don't know good entertainment--" Harper caught everyone's glare. "Shutting up now." 

Beka glanced at him. "Promises, promises." 

Slowly, Dylan said, "Which leaves--" 

"You." Rommie's eyes were steady, but the holographic display twitched very slightly. "My avatar has been equipped for such activity. I'm sure it was purely out of aesthetic concerns." She resolutely did not look at Harper, who was blushing slightly. "You won't damage me, if that was your concern." 

Dylan hoped his face were blank. He nodded curtly at his crew and turned away.   
 

* * *

  


When he reached his chambers, he sagged onto the bed and closed his eyes. _Wonderful_ , he thought. _Great_. There were few things more certain to make a... not woman, exactly, perhaps the word _person_ would work... welcome your company than forcing yourself on her in the name of a prank gone wrong. 

Duty was usually a trap, but this was going past trap and into paradox. Rommie was, in a way, a member of his crew and as such he had to make sure of her well-being. Which also meant that fraternization, such as it were, was _not_ a good idea, for more reasons than the obvious. 

AI ships were almost universally programmed to adore their captains. In many cases, this translated into sexual attraction. Dylan was fully aware of this, and knew that taking advantage of this was at times useful, even necessary. He knew many captains who did, and he didn't think any less of them. 

And yet... 

Ever since his new crew woke him up, Dylan found himself forced to acknowledge Rommie as her own person, with an independent, powerful mind. They treated her like more than a fellow soldier; they treated her like (say it) a sentient being. Which Dylan knew she was, intellectually, but still found himself thinking of her as "the ship". Which she also was. This led to much confusion. 

He'd been forced to look carefully at himself. This led to the conclusion that captains were, apparently, as programmed as their ships. AI's, after all, were expensive. It's been drilled into the captains' minds that the ships were precious, important and non-expendable. Somewhere along the line, this line of thinking mutated into affection. 

This was Dylan's theory, as anything else was too silly to even consider. What kind of person fell in love with a piece of machinery? Well, Harper, evidently, but he hardly counted. 

Someone was knocking on his door. Dylan mentally composed himself and opened it. 

Rommie's avatar was there, staring at him blankly. Dylan realized with discomfort that the same eyes targeted currently at his face were also able to see behind his back and throughout the ship. He will be evaluated from multiple camera angles. 

He plastered a smile on his face. To hell with it. Captain Dylan Hunt did not suffer of examination anxiety. He stood aside. Rommie walked past him and stood, expectantly, by the bed. Dylan hesitated. 

Rommie waited for a moment before she started disrobing, methodically and quickly. Dylan moved over to her and stilled her hands. 

A flicker of what had to be annoyance passed through her eyes. "What is it?" 

"You don't have to be so... workmanlike about it." Ha placed his hands on her shoulders. "We're not in a hurry, here." 

"We are, actually. We have two hours before meltdown." 

His mind rewired that phrase in a terrible, not quite funny way. "Two hours is enough," he said, a little hoarse. "We can do just fine with two hours." 

Her fingers were cold when they touched him. The rest of her was hot, vibrating ever-so-slightly; a subtle reminder of her inner workings. 

At a whim, he grasped her hand, flexing her fingers. The digits followed his command willingly (several of the ship's crew would do well to learn from them, he thought wryly), but something about it bothered him. He frowned slightly and repeated his action. 

"Human fingers curl inwardly. It's an instinctive trait I don't possess." For all that Rommie's voice was patient, her fingers twitched once in his hands. It had taken her some time, Dylan remembered, to grasp the concept of body language, but she had become quite fluent in it when she chose to be. 

Dylan raised the hand to his mouth and closed his lips around a fingertip. He gave Rommie a questioning look. 

"This isn't necessary." 

He permitted himself an indulgent little chuckle. "If you think this should be about necessity, you have a lot to learn." 

She canted her head. "I do know the meaning of the words 'mating instincts'." 

"Do you also know the meaning of 'romance'?" 

The look she gave him was almost affronted. "My vocabulary is very comprehensive." 

"Your vocabulary is not the subject." To demonstrate the point, he kissed her wrist. She remained completely still. "How is this?" 

"Moist." 

"That's not a very encouraging answer, Andromeda." He sounded amused, which was only slightly better than sounding completely panicked. 

"Humans find this pleasurable." This wasn't a question. Rommie's knowledge of human courtship behavior wasn't quite as comprehensive as her vocabulary, but Harper's educative streak had remedied that. "I suppose I must, as well. Harper assured me that my neural connections are as authentic as possible within the limits of technology." 

"In that case, you should enjoy this." He gave her no time to reply before kissing her as passionately as he could. 

Was that an involuntary twitch? Dylan could only hope. 

He only relinquished his control of her mouth when he was running out of air. Rommie was staring at him blankly. 

"Rather wetter," she said. "Could we get on with the procedure, please?" 

Dylan shuddered. "If you use words like 'procedure', we-- that is, I-- won't be able to continue at all." 

"Please forgive me. Should I avoid any other words?" 

Dylan considered. "None that spring to mind at the moment." 

"Be sure to tell me. I would hate for you to be distracted at a crucial moment, should you ever choose to get to it." 

"It's much more pleasurable when both sides are relaxed." He brushed his fingers against Rommie's sides and shivered, very slightly. He was enjoying this entirely too much. He should thank Harper - either that, of throw him through the airlock, which was always a favorable option. 

"It's also more pleasurable when neither of the sides is in danger of having his or her mental circuits ruined should the pro-- ah, act, fail to reach some obscure standard." 

She did this on purpose, Dylan knew. Machines had no such thing as a slip of the tongue. "We could hardly reach _any_ standard when one of the participants is acting as though she's made of ice." 

"Ice is an impractical building material. I'm made of--" 

"I know." Harper had told him about it much more than he'd cared to know. "Could we please get on with matters?" 

"Did I somehow hint that I was interested in further delay?" 

"You were nothing but absolutely direct about what you wanted." Now, if he could only get her to be as direct about wanting _other_ things, this wouldn't feel so much like, well, sexual harassment. 

She stepped back, politely but pointedly taking her hand out of his. She climbed on the bed and lay on it, giving him an expectant look. For a moment, Dylan was at a loss; there was something close to ridiculous about Rommie's posture, which looked stiff and uncomfortable. She was all but closing her eyes and thinking about the Commonwealth. 

He sat down beside her and gingerly ran his hands over her. Rommie, who seemed weary of telling Dylan off for procrastinating, closed her eyes, sighed very slightly and let her mouth open a fraction. 

Her lips looked moist, even though Dylan knew from prior experience that they weren't. They also looked becoming and delicious, which they were. Dylan's instinct propelled him to kiss them. 

He didn't resist it.   
 

* * *

  


Rommie's body must have been the polar opposite of pliant. The more strongly Dylan pushed, the harder it resisted. He might have been concerned about hurting Rommie, but she had already said countless times that she was fine and right now he couldn't muster the presence of mind needed to phrase a question. 

She trembled incessantly, whether because of some sort of derived pleasure, pain or the upcoming breakdown of her circuits Dylan did not know. All he knew was that her skin was burning his fingers, her thighs were contracting around his, and her-- 

_Oh no don't think about that--_

But he did, and with a shudder of his own he spilled inside her, clutching her arms so tightly that he might have left bruises on an ordinary woman. But Rommie was no ordinary woman, and it would be no wonder if _she_ left bruises on _him_. 

Dylan panted for a moment, then rolled aside. It took him yet another moment to remember that Rommie, in all probability, did not notice his weight. 

She didn't seem to mind. She rose from the bed, shameless as only someone made of metal can be, and picked her clothes up from the floor. She was sliding into her pants when she paused to look at him. 

"Thank you," she said softly. 

He sighed. "No thanks are necessary." 

She considered. "No, I suspect not." A smile shone across her face. "And yet, I am grateful." 

She left his room, and Dylan was left to wonder whether he only imagined the warmth he saw, for a moment, in her eyes. 

 


End file.
